


too hot to touch (but you don't notice 'cause you still do)

by DoctorFitzy (KittooningMalijah)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Episode: s06e04 Code Yellow, Episode: s06e07 Toldja, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Scar kisses, Scars, Sorry Not Sorry, i made myself sad yet again, your honor they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittooningMalijah/pseuds/DoctorFitzy
Summary: Nothing goes on this wrist. Ever.Every rule has an exception.(5 times Deke let Trevor touch his arm, and one time he didn't)
Relationships: Trevor Khan/Deke Shaw
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	too hot to touch (but you don't notice 'cause you still do)

**Author's Note:**

> title from Adonis by Former Vandal

**i.**

The first time it happened, it was an accident.

An investment meeting had gone well, _really_ well, and that meant he had a really good excuse to spend a night out with friends. Well, one friend. Well, his only friend. But just because he only had one friend didn’t mean that they couldn’t have a good time.

Deke had had a few too many Zimas between when they got to the bar and when they left it again, and he had tried to stumble to their Lyft on his own when the driver parked on the curb. It hadn’t ended well, and the only thing that stopped him from hitting the ground was one stronger, far more sober arm around his waist and a steady hand on his sleeve. The grip was gentle, but even that was too much pressure from the thumb so close to his wrist and the scar hidden under his jacket.

It took two seconds for him to fully realize what had happened, too late to stop himself from flinching, but he regretted it. Because it had been instinct, the desire to pull away from any kind of contact, but if he was going to let anyone in like that, be close enough to see his scars and know his history, he knew who his first pick would be. It wouldn’t happen until the alcohol left his system and his head was clear, and maybe he wouldn’t actually say anything for weeks, but he wanted to.

He trusted his best friend more than anything. So, once they were safely in the back seat and no longer running the risk of falling to the ground, he let himself feel comfortable and stayed close enough that his arm was pressed close to Trevor’s from shoulder to elbow. In his lap, he slipped his thumb into his sleeve and brushed it over the edge of the scar left there from his metric, where he could still feel the faint ghost of pressure.

**ii.**

The second time was an accident, too, and not even real.

The game needed to be tested since the graphics had been fixed and upgraded, though the plot and layout of the game had only changed in a few places to make the map easier to navigate. Of course, Deke hadn’t _played_ the new map for almost a hundred hours, and a turn that used to lead to the virtual ship’s main control room now led to a dead end. Because someone on the design team thought it would be better if they couldn’t just run in circles to flee the Remorath they had angered earlier on in the game. Genius, until he had to actually play it.

“Shit.”

They had three fake but still pissed off aliens on their asses, and no way of guaranteeing that they’d be able to escape if they hesitated for too long. But the nearest hallway that actually _led somewhere_ was behind them, where the enemy was, and they had to act fast.

“Come on, this way.” He was too stunned to react when Trevor grabbed his wrist to pull him back around the corner, palm pressed to where the scar would be under the leather in reality. He’d made sure that his avatar didn’t have any physical blemishes like that, but this was still the _framework_ , even though he’d reworked it to fit his needs. It was meant to _feel_ real, and that reminder that there was still a reality to go back to, that running from aliens wasn’t his life anymore, made him feel _warm_. So maybe, once they reached safety and the hand left his arm, it seemed to happen just a little too soon.

**iii.**

The third accident was also the first time Trevor had actually seen the inside of his apartment.

His best friend had come over with a stack of DVDs and the determination that they would get through at least two of them before the night was through, even if it meant both of them passing out on the couch. Maybe it wasn’t the _best_ idea to all but loudly announce that he’d never seen _The Breakfast Club_ in the middle of the lobby at lunch time, but Deke wasn’t _opposed_ to a comfortable night in. Their Friday nights were usually spent at one bar or another, and while that wasn’t a horrible way to spend the time, the change was refreshing.

And then _Breakfast Club_ turned into _Die Hard_ , and then _Die Hard_ turned into this episode of a sitcom that Deke just _had_ to watch, which turned into flipping through channels to find something worthy of paying attention to after midnight. Really, it was an excuse so that they could both stay on the couch and in each other’s presence for a little longer, but neither of them was going to admit that to the other. Eventually, they settled on a low budget horror film, something predictable that didn’t actually require them to put their full attention toward it.

Except one jump scare that wasn’t as predictable as all the others was all it took for them to move. They both flinched, and the hand that had been meant for Deke’s shoulder found his arm, instead, when they reached for each other, fingers wrapping around his wrist while the shock slowly left them both. And, for the first time, Deke didn’t feel even the slightest urge to pull away.

**iv.**

It wasn’t the first time it had been done on purpose, but the first time the contact wasn’t with fingers or palm.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you trust me?”

There wasn’t enough time for Deke to voice his response, but he didn’t need to, simply relaxing into the blankets around them. He didn’t remember exactly how they’d gotten there, but the sun was coming up beyond the sheer curtains that covered his window, bathing the entire room in a golden glow, reminding him of the warmth in his chest. They hadn’t slept, even though that was the original plan, and gotten too caught up in talking while staying tangled up together under the blankets - about the future, and the past, and the strange overlap between the two.

Trevor knew most of the details about his life, now, and he’d stayed. He’d stayed past midnight and into the early morning and the alarm on his phone that reminded him to go for a run had been silenced and ignored. Almost an hour later, Deke was watching while he laid on his stomach, inspecting every detail of the scar on his outstretched arm before pressing his lips to the same spot in a soft kiss.

And Deke wanted to hold onto that feeling forever.

**v.**

The touch wasn’t an accident.

Nothing about the finger gently hooking around his wrist was done without the utmost thought and purpose. For instance, the brush of contact over the outside of his arm was careful enough that he barely felt it, let alone registered what was concealed under that portion of his sleeve. The finger at his wrist avoided the scar, too, a useless endeavor with the thick fabric barrier, especially when the situation demanded _urgency_.

Not-Coulson could be close behind, and a SHIELD extraction could take hours to reach them. They needed to _move_ , but for a few moments, Deke allowed himself to focus on the contact - the hand on his back, the fingers at his wrist, so similar to the hold on him that night outside the bar, the night of the first accident.

All too soon, the touch was gone. Once again, he was running from a threat, and this time, he didn’t have the comfort of the danger being a simulation.

**\+ i.**

The tension in the room when Not-Coulson spoke was too much, and Deke was quick to excuse himself so that he could focus on anything else.

It was almost instinct to head for a familiar place, the closest room he associated with safety. Of course, that involved walking down the hallway, walking past a familiar face that might as well belong to a stranger, and his plan to be alone with his thoughts was completely destroyed. Instead, he was followed until he found a room that had been converted into an office - small, but empty and private enough for the conversation he didn’t even want to have.

“Deke-”

“Don’t you have a job to do, Agent Kahn?” He ignored the ache in his chest that came from saying his _best friend’s_ title instead of his name, crossing his arms in front of his chest while he frown. “Last I checked, it wasn’t babysitting me, anymore.”

He watched Trevor sigh, and the defeat he saw in the other man’s eyes was almost enough to let his guard down. Almost.

“If you’ll just let me explain, I-”

“No. I don’t _want_ an explanation.” Deke gave a pointed shake of his head before stepping forward, making his way toward the door that would lead to the more populated hallway and an escape. That meant uncrossing his arms, reaching past the man he thought he knew-

-and a hand reached for his arm. “ _Deke-_ ”

For the first time since their late night movie binge, he flinched back from the impending contact, hugging his arm to his chest as if letting anything near it would burn him and leave him with more scars than he already had. “ _Don’t_ , Trevor. Just... just _don’t_.”


End file.
